To poor William Hender this was good news indeed, for it meant that his dear ones were not in want—at any rate for the present—and the knowledge lifted a heavy load from his mind. "Thank God for sending me such help in my trouble," he murmured gratefully. "I am blessed with good children, and no mistake!"
But Bella's happiness had almost vanished at the sight of the poor pale face on the pillow, and the weak hands that he could scarcely raise. She had, somehow, expected to see her father much better and more like himself, but he looked so dreadfully, dreadfully ill and altered that an awful fear swept over her and gripped her with an icy clutch. In her anxiety she forgot her shyness, and went boldly up to one of the nurses, who was standing a little way off. "Do you think father is really better, miss?" she asked timidly, while every nerve quivered with dread of the answer.
"He is getting on," the nurse answered cautiously. "It will be a long time before he will be well, of course. You mustn't expect to see much difference for a good while yet."
"You do think he will get well? You don't think he is—is——" Bella could not finish her question, her lips quivered so. The nurse, who was not supposed to talk about the patients to their friends, could not refuse those frightened pleading eyes.
"Oh no, no! you mustn't be thinking of such a thing. He is going to get well presently, and you will have him home for Christmas. What you have to do is to keep his spirits up, and cheer him all you can, and the doctor will cure him, and we will take care of him and send him home in time to eat his Christmas dinner."
Bella smiled through her tears, and with the worst fear lifted from her heart she turned to her father again. Till four o'clock they sat by him and talked, and he listened contentedly. He was anxious to hear every little detail of all they had been doing at home. He was too weak to talk much, but he joined in now and then, and laughed a lot at the funny things they told him. He was very much pleased when he heard about Rocket.
"I'm thankful you thought of it, my boy. I've been troubling about Bella's having that long walk in all weathers, and the mornings and evenings getting darker and darker. Rocket's a good steady donkey too, I remember him; 'twas I advised poor old Mother Wintle to buy him," and he laughed at the recollection.
The laugh raised Bella's spirits again, and their tongues wagged so fast after that, that when the bell rang at four o'clock for the visitors to leave, they felt sure there must have been a mistake. "It can't be more than three!" said Bella, quite distressed. But all the clocks in the town were striking four, and all the other visitors in the ward were preparing to leave. Bella's spirits sank again, it seemed so dreadful to go away and leave her father there, and it took all her courage to keep from breaking down and weeping bitterly.
"Never mind," said Tom, trying to be cheerful, "one week has gone, and the worst one for father, I expect, and p'raps in two or three more he'll be home again."
"The nurse said he would be home for Christmas," said Bella dolefully; "but I think she must have made a mistake, and meant Michaelmas, for Christmas is more than three months off yet. He'll be sure to be back before the Fair, won't he, Tom?"